


A study in human emotion

by addendum



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2016-11-20
Packaged: 2018-09-01 05:09:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8610052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/addendum/pseuds/addendum
Summary: Draco never learned to deal with his feelings without being destructive.





	

Upon first meeting Harry Potter, Draco was rather at odds with himself. On one hand, it was The Boy Who Lived! With all the mystery surrounding him, he'd always seemed more myth than person. Familiar, but not quite real. Like the enchantresses who danced across the pages that mom read aloud before bed. Meeting him was an 11 year olds equivalent to coming face to face with God himself. 

On the other hand, however, he was somewhat of a threat, right? Draco had overheard Dad and Aunt Bella speak of him in hushed voices filled with venom. The greasy haired man whose name Draco could never quite recall had once referred to Harry's father has "scum". 

Harry's eyes caught Draco's attention first. They were striking. It was the first time in his life that Draco thought to describe something as beautiful. 

Draco introduced himself boldly, modeling his smirk and confident tone on that of his father's. Despite this, Harry remained unimpressed. 

After his invitation of friendship was rejected, Draco found himself feeling dejected, and rather embarrassed. He disguised this masterfully, transforming his hurt and disappointment into bitterness, which then fueled several vicious attacks aimed at Harry and his friends. Draco had incredible difficulty in grasping the concept of the famous Harry Potter being best friends with a Weasley. And then, a few weeks into the school year, a mudblood. This is what stung the most. 

Following the discovery that this trio had being helping the large bearded man harbor a dragon egg, Draco reported them. Despite this, he couldn't help but feel oddly jealous of the fun this group always seemed to be having. 

He couldn't help but wonder what would've happened if Harry had been sorted into Slytherin. 

••••  
Lucius Malfoy was never fond of Harry Potter. He's openly expressed his disdain for his parents and everything they stood for. He resented the boy immensely for what he'd done to the Dark Lord. He'd never liked the Potter boy to begin with, and this only worsened when he was tricked into giving up his house elf. 

Draco had heard about this for weeks. Harry Potter is a menace. Harry Potter truly is devil spawn. Just as bad as his deadbeat father. 

Lucius was humiliated to have been outsmarted by a child, and hid this with a series of complaints and allegations with no basis in truth. 

Draco nodded obediently in response to each and every one of Harry's imagined grievances. He would not know how to explain to his father that he thought what Harry did was rather clever. 

••••  
During the summer before his third year at Hogwarts, Draco masturbated for the first time. He'd been wanting to for months, but was too embarrassed to do so on Hogwarts grounds. 

He ran to his bedroom, locked his door, and shuffled under his covers. He stuck his hand down his boxer shorts with the frantic movement unique to horny teenage boys. 

His dick was hard after only a brief rubbing, and he focused on the first image that came into his mind.  
The very image he'd had exactly three wet dreams about. On three separate occasions he'd woken, panting and ashamed, because of this image. 

Harry Potter laying on top of him, their legs intertwined. 

Draco's face heated quickly, a perverse combination of shame and lust. As he continued to pleasure himself, a memory came to mind that he would've preferred to forget. 

Once, during a quidditch match, he and Harry Potter had made intense eye contact. This had filled his stomach with butterflies, confusing him greatly. One thought led to another, and soon he had a very uncomfortable tightness in his robes. No one noticed, but Draco had been humiliated nonetheless.  
After the match, he cried in the shower. 

Back in his bedroom, Draco came embarrassingly fast. Red and gasping for air, he felt nothing but a peculiar loneliness. 

••••

Draco attended the Yule Ball with Pansy Parkinson. Her dress fit her okay, but she wore a sneer that tarnished the image. She was angry that he wasn't paying her any attention, but he was far too distracted to care. 

He spent the night observing his peers, and feeling sorry for the majority of them. 

So many kids looked uncomfortable, lonely, or dejected. 

Harry Potter stood awkwardly on the sidelines, probably deep in thought about his surprising entrance into the tournament. 

Everyone in Slytherin was sure he'd done it on purpose. Harry Potter, desperate for attention. Of course he was. 

Draco, however, found himself feeling otherwise. With all the hell Harry had been through, why would he look for more? 

Draco saw the way Ron Weasley looked at the Granger girl. When he saw her dancing with Krum, he looked furious. But that only lasted briefly. After a few seconds, he only looked sad, defeated. 

Malfoy found himself feeling pity. A mudblood and a Weasley, and Draco felt bad. 

It was very possible that this is what allowed Draco to admit to himself who he'd rather be dancing with that night. 

••••  
By fifth year, Draco had only grown more frustrated by his feelings. When the name Harry Potter was mentioned, his heart beat faster. His face heated. His stomach became nauseous. A person could go insane that way. And perhaps that is what was happening. 

When Draco was made a member of the Inquisitorial Squad, the position was little more to him than an outlet for anger. 

Harry Potter had created a club. Dumbledore's Army, he called it. How courageous. How admirable. How fucking typical. 

Draco continued to do exactly what was expected of him. He used his newfound power to harass Harry and his friends. He tormented Harry as he'd always done. 

And yet, when he saw the pained look on Harry's face for the first time after the death of Sirius Black, his chest tightened. 

••••  
Draco's sixth year could not be described as anything less than a whirlwind. 

Before the year had even begun, he smashed in Harry Potter's face. All his anger and mixed up emotions had come to a head in a violent outburst. It was bloody, and shameful. 

Draco hadn't felt apologetic, exactly. After years of being told that his kind were better, he had developed a bit of a superiority complex. Everything he'd been told his whole life suggested that he was at the liberty to do whatever he pleased. 

He did, of course, have certain breaking points. 

When Draco discovered that he had been chosen to kill Albus Dumbledore, he was horrified. The very question was enough to make him question his entire system of morals, and the direction his life was headed in. 

He thought over a lot that year. Was he doing what he truly believed to be right? Was his father? Were either of them deserving of a second chance? Was redemption a gift only some had earned? He wasn't sure. 

When he came face with the man he was meant to kill, Draco froze. 

 

••••

The year Draco turned seventeen was the year of the war. Draco's inner turmoil still swirled inside him incessantly. 

When that familiar trio showed up at his family's manor in chains, Draco made for the first time a choice he knew he could be proud of. He denied recognizing them. He pushed away the hundreds of memories, the hurt and anger, and said he did not know. 

The Battle of Hogwarts waged in perfect synchronization with the war in Draco's heart. 

During this in when Draco experienced another first: loss. Crabbe died in the fire, and Draco realized the sharp, unyielding pain of losing someone dear to him.

Later that same night, he heard words come from his own mother's lips. A name that made him nauseous to hear, just as it always had. Harry Potter was dead. 

If asked, Draco could not have described the change this caused in him. The boy whom so many invested their lives into hurting was finally gone. And for what? All the vicious remarks and physical attacks hadn't given Draco anything to be proud of. A boy lay dead. In a sea other dead bodies. Another life lost, and for what purpose? What was anyone trying to prove? There were no winners. In the end, none of it had mattered much. In the end, everyone was still hurting.


End file.
